


Fight me

by the_nita



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Rusty so please be gentle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nita/pseuds/the_nita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for an Ask Box meme over on Tumblr with the prompt "Fight Me". For littleblueartist. Sidhera is always my muse for writing Clintasha but none of this has been beta'd so all the mistakes are my own.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Fight me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an Ask Box meme over on Tumblr with the prompt "Fight Me". For littleblueartist. Sidhera is always my muse for writing Clintasha but none of this has been beta'd so all the mistakes are my own.

Holding still as only he can, he waits. He knows she’s somewhere in the course. His job is to wait until she’s close by and then tag her.

Sounds simple enough. Really – how hard can it be to tag the Black Widow while she’s only in training mode? How hard can it be to tag a super spy, enhanced by chemistry and training by the Red Room to be a perfect specimen of espionage? To travel without a trace and to take out anyone who gets in her way.

He told Coulson that this was an exercise in insanity. She’s Natasha damned Romanov. The other agents on the floor are about to find out what it’s like to wake up with near concussions (she’s professional enough to pull the force of her blows against friendlies). The puzzles she will have to overcome will be laughably easy for her.

If Clint didn’t know better, he would swear this was the dumbest idea he had ever heard of. Running some kind of damned “Danger Room” scenario with her where the point was to herd her to him. To have her run to him like some kind of trained rat so he could tag her with a rubber tipped arrow. To remind her – seriously, did Fury think this was a good idea – that at the end of the day, it was his call that she lived and came to SHIELD.

But she had accepted the premise of the exercise. That it would be her talents and knowledge against some of the best SHIELD had to offer – and him. Her partner. The man who knew her better than anyone and she could read like a book.

Clint shook his head, still amazed that she hadn’t flipped Fury off and left. That her stoic Russian face had stayed in place till they left, then slipped just a hair when he started to apologize on their way to the lockers to get ready.

“Don’t worry, Barton. I’ll go easy on you.”

Easy on him. He huffed. Woman would get to find out why he was a master marksman – “the man who never missed” – and got to get away with turning up with pretty Russian master assassins and his bosses accepted his word that she was an asset as opposed to a liability.

He could see her take out the last of the agents who had been tasked with leading her to him. She slipped behind a wall for a moment, presumably looking to make sure the coast was clear.

It would be over all too soon. He remembered another time, in another place, where he did much the same thing – waited quietly for her, bow in hand, while she walked quietly into his trap. Fingertips tapped out a staccato beat on his quiver, arming his arrow with the blunt tip that would only leave a small bruise, not kill her. Notching the arrow, his heartbeat slowed as his breathing evened out. The world faded away, his vision tunneling down to the slight figure walking towards him in her lean black cat suit and bright red hair. He drew the arrow back, murmured “Sorry, Nat,” and let fly.

Only to feel her knife at his throat, her lips by his ear as she whispered.

“Always be prepared for a body double, Agent Barton. You caught me once this way. Never again.”

Looking down, Clint realised that the woman in the cat suit, rubbing her chest, was Hill. Hill in a wig and some padding to make her look like Natasha. Dammit.

“So – what now, Agent Romanov?”

“I said I’d go easy on you. Breakfast in bed for a month.”

He got to sleep with her for a month. He’d call that a bargain.


End file.
